PAGE SIX
THE POST, FRIDAY, JUNE 27, 1941
HARRISBURG HEARS
By BERNARD B. BLIER
The Fourth of July, traditional holiday of our State and Nation, may
be doubly celebrated this year.
At least the members of the General
Assembly will make a greater effort to herald their new freedom—freedom
from 1941 legislative duties.
If the proposed schedule is followed, the
boys will return to their homes which they left in tranquility the first
week in January. Some of them
will enter new political contests for
other offices, some will await the
special session that the Democrats
hope Governor James will be forced
to convoke, others will return home
never to sit in the legislative’ halls
of our Commonwealth again.
There is no doubt in the minds
of the boys in the know that the
Lawrence-Kelly combine is in com-
plete control of the State Demo-
cratic commitee. Two recent moves
amply demonstrate that Dave Law-
rence has come back. When the
State committee met a few weeks
ago, Senator Joe Guffey and his
adherents demanded an open pri-
mary. This wish materialized on
the floor of the meeting into a mere
whisper. It completely astonished
Chairman Meredith Meyers, loyal
Guffeyite.
When Brother Joe had an oppor-
tunity to get even with an official
that depended upon him for spon-
sorship, he removed William Driscoll
as collector of internal revenue for
Western Pennsylvania. He was re-
sponsible for the appointment of
Walter Miller, assistant chief clerk
of the House of Representatives and
only Guffey follower in the reor-
ganized House, to ousted Driscoll’s
post. Guffey and his friends thought
that they would be given the re-
placement for Miller. One Clarence
D. Moretz, Dauphin county ehair-
man, was mentioned as the logical
successor to the new collectorship.
Dave Lawrence, however, believed
the best time to set up a formidable
organization is now. He then saw
to it that Will Driscoll was placed
in the $3,600 clerkship.
The reason Joe Guffey was so
anxious to even a political score
with Driscoll is to be found in the
exposition of the fact that he, Guf-
fey, was several years delinquent in
his income taxe returns. This in-
formation was released at the height
of the Senator’s compaign for re-
election. Mr. Driscoll recently said
that many taxpayers in his district
believing that Senator Guffey was
no better than they, refused to file
their income returns. Further,
Driscoll is quoted as saying, “The
department was put to unnecessary
expense in filing liens and issuing
warrants against hundreds of citi-
zens who resented the Senator’s
action.” So with Lawrence in com-
plete control of the committee that
will select the next gubernatorial
candidate many believe the same
boys who wielded the power during
the Earle administration will again
lead the party’s fight in 1942.
There are charges of politics in
other places than at the State Cap-
ital. Over at Indiantown Gap, home
of Pennsylvania's 28th “Iron” Na-
tional Guard Division, there are
rumblings of military favoritism.
Such news is not released through
official channels for obvious reasons.
From time to time there are pro-
motions made in the ranks of all
army divisions. This procedure is
employed in business and govern-
ment generally. When the various
Guard units handed out these ad-
vances, however, there was a terrific
beef. The howl came from men who
felt that they had joined Pennsyl-
vania’s militia prior to the emerg-
ency, and should receive a prior con-
sideration when promotions were
extended. Instead, according to
many of the lads, new recruits, men
who enlisted in the Guard to save
themselves from Selective Service,
were advanced although they joined
only five months ago. Professional
and business men, associates of of-
ficers in the Guard, who back home
were business and fraternal com-
panions, were given first considera-:
tion for non-commissioned posts.
When the votes last November re-
flected a Democratic majority in the
State House of Representatives,
many immediately speculated on the
party’s selection for speaker. Names
of old members were mentioned.
At first, it appeared that the Guf-
fey forces fresh from the surprise
return of their leader to the Na-
tional Legislature would obtain the
speakership for Leo Achterman of
Monroe, an old wheelhorse of the
party. Jack Kelly, however, was
acquainted with the hidden talents
of a member of his own Philadel-
phia delegation. He at once pressed
for consideration of Elmer Kilroy.
This action by Kelly with the col-
laboration of Lawrence did not re-
ceive universal acclamation. Party
members although loyal to Jack and
Dave, felt that the Democratic party
would be in a very opportunist po-
sition at the 1941 session. To ex-
tend the speakership to a quiet
member who played no outstanding
part in the party battles of previous
sessions was certainly a perplexing
situation.
When the selection was made, the
choice of the leaders prevailed—
Elmer Kilroy, salesman, was elected
speaker of the present session.
Speaker Elmer embarked on his pre-
siding voyage gavel in hand. He
handled the 208 members of the
House in such fine fashion that to
date no member has registered a
complaint against him.
Those who were in attendance at
the sessions of the past few weeks
when the calendar of bills in the
House approached 40 pages daily,
» ce
& ae
THE LOW DOWN FROM
HICKORY GROVE
In our U. S. A. we man-
age to keep in a lather—
winter and summer. A
few years ago they stirred
us by saying the country
was bogged down on ac-
counteverythingwas -
over-built—too many fac-
tories and too many ev-
erything. Now there 1s
too little of everything,
and persons like Mr. Nor-
ris from out there in Ne-
braska, they are saying
the Government has gotta
get busy and build—>build
everyt htm g — factories,
power-houses, etc., etc.
But if you stop mow to
inquire about why we
were lulled into a state
where we figured we were
over-equipped, instead of
unprepared, you are a
traitor or most any name
. they can think up as a
slogan to shame you. But
we gotta play ball mow
with the.ones who lulled
us—or we will all wake up
as a dead pigeon.
But we can do one thing
from mow on, we can keep
one eye peeled and one ear
to the ground while we
are bending our back at
the oar.
If we let Socialism
sneak in the back door, we
got mothing on Germany,
or vice versa — and can
call off the war before
the shootin’ starts.
Yours with the low down,
JOE SERRA.
BB :
POETRY
THE SOLDIER’S CREED
The soldier’s creed
creed.
It’s inception forgotten by man—
But, God remembered and recorded
it—
In The Book of Creation’s plan.
The soldier’s creed was of freedom
born—
Distinct and apart from greed,
But mankind sought to shackle it—
His worldly coffers to feed.
The soldier's creed, a sacred gift—
Bequeathed by God to Son,
May not be bartered nor gambled
for—
Nor even lightly won.
The soldier’s creed is his staff of life,
His one and only all,
His solace in foray or battle,
His light in The Port of Call.
The soldier's creed encircles the
earth,
"Tis retold by the Master's birth,
Re-lived by His sufferings on the
cross,
His “promise” of life not dearth.
The soldier’s creed is to follow God,
To make of himself a part
Of all that is good and noble—
Through a staunch and loving
heart.
To fight for God and country
And that most inspired plan—
Which all free men have dreamed
about,
“THE BROTHERHOOD OF MAN.”
Ah! yes. They are quite an army—
These souls of the ancient creed.
You will find them in every country,
Each noble in fact and deed.
is an ancient
ers
Devoid of malice or hate,
Unscared by the whip of tyranny’s
boast
Assured of humanity’s fate.
For some time, quite soon, they
reason—
Mankind will respond to God's
love
And become once again as children,
As taught by the Master above.
+—Virginia Harding.
say Elmer Kilroy disposes of more
business than veteran speakers. The
same gentleman who seldom spoke
from the floor of the House in form-
er years certainly confirmed Jack
Kelly's splendid judgment, The 1941
session is a fine tribute to Mr. Kil-
roy.
When the Democratic party looks
about for a competent candidate for
lieutenant-governor next spring, the
name of Kilroy will be in the fore-
front.
I~ =
FREEDOM
The columnists and con-
tributors on this page are
allowed great latitude in
expressing their own opin-
ions, even when their
opinions are at vartance
with those of The Post
— RS
“Out Of The Night”
oN “Fou ©
FREEDOMS’
"BEHIND THE SCENES IN AMERICAN BUSINESS”
By James Craddock
NO SUMMER LULL—The three
main trends current in the business
picture are: (1) Department store
volume of goods moved is well on
the way to setting an all-time high
for the first half of the year, while
profits are holding up well and dol-
lar volume will be highest since
1929, and with prospects bright for
maintaining the pace in latter half
of year; (3) Increasing sentiment in
various quarters for putting some
curbs on extension of credit in con-
sumer lines—which means a tight-
ening up on installment buying; and
(3) Voluntary, as well as “negotiat-
ed” wage increases are being made
in many lines, not all of them de-
fense-goods industries, either.
Other items indicating there'll be
no mid-summer lull this year in-
clude the Federal Reserve Board's
findings that general industrial ac-
tivity increased sharply during May,
sending its seasonally-adjusted index
to 149 (percent of the 1935-39 aver-
age), compared with 140 in April
and 143 in March; the continuing
terrific pace of construction awards,
which last week hit the third highest
total ever reported; and reports of
big gains for railroads in both pas-
senger and freight revenues.
VEGETABLE EXCURSION—“Ex-
cursion rates’ for vegetables as well
as people would help bring Ameri-
cans more vitamin-rich food by en-
couraging farmers to market more
For they are the soldiers, the think-|; °
truck crops, says A. R. Sabin, U. S.
| Department of Agriculture statisti-
cian. Sabin reports that, in 1940
alone, enough truck crops went un-
marketed because of low farm prices
to supply 13,000, 000 people for a
month.
BITS O’ BUSINESS—It’s estimat-
ed that, with somewhat more than
1 percent of the country’s total
population in the army, the service
is using one and three-quarters per
cent of our total food production.
. The chemical industry, which
held the record for “explosive”
pansion up to the time the war situ-
CX we cas
a community institution”
THE DALLAS POST
ESTABLISHED 1889
“More than a newspaper,
A non-partisan liberal
progressive newspaper pub-
lished every Friday morning
at its plant on Lehman Ave-
nue, Dallas, Penna., by the
Dallas Post, Inc.
Entered as second-class matter
at the post office at Dallas, Pa.,
under the Act of March 3, 1879.
Subscriptions, $2 a year, payable
in advance.
Single copies, at a rate of Sc
each, can be obtained every Fri-
day morning at the following
newsstands: Dallas; Hislop’s Rest-
aurant, Tally-Ho Grille; Shaver-
town, Evans’ Drug Store; Hunts-
ville, Frantz Fairlawn Store.
Editor and Publisher
HOWARD W. RISLEY
Associate Editor
MYRA ZEISER RISLEY
Contributing Editors
FRED M. KIEFER
JOHN V. HEFFERNAN
Mechanical Superintendent
HAROLD J. PRICE
ation lifted aviation into that po-
sition, is still going strong—its
sales’ are nearly double those of its
record year of 1939, but profits
aren't showing anywhere near such
a rise, what with taxes and higher
wages . . . Westinghouse is adjust-
ing wages and salaries upward 11
percent this month, in accordance
with its plan under which the com-
pensation rate for each month is
based on the average company earn-
ings for the preceding three months.
. Suits for soldiers may put a
crimp in suits for civilians—wool
mill backlogs, since a recent order
by Uncle Sam, are five times as
great as a year ago.
MOTORISTS WISE, ITEMIZE—
That little black expense book which
generally rests, dust laden, in the
auto glove compartment, soon will
be seeing service again. Why? Be-
cause Uncle Sam is rapidly tighten-
ing his petroleum belt; last week
there was talk of “ration cards’ and
the week before, ‘“‘gasless Sundays”
—and now motorists wise, particu-
larly tourists, are sharpening their
pencils to figure a gallon of gas into
as many driving miles as possible.
One car manufacturer steps in with
the helpful hint that the average
family can ‘get away from it all”
on a two-week, 2,000-mile ‘“defense-
time” touring vacation for approxi-
mately $20 per person. Joseph W.
Frazer cites a study made by his
company as proof that a family of
four, by combining the use of low-
cost cars with comfortable, economi-
cal tourist cabins, can spend two
weeks, covering 150 miles a day, at
a total cost of about $80. Most of
the reports sent in show the average
cost of over-night cabins, including
two rooms and bath, is about $2.50.
Meals for four, cooked in these
cabins, frequently run as little as
$2 per day for the family.
fHINGS TO WATCH FOR—A new
foolproof midget plane, the Skyfarer
of General Aircraft—it’s claimed
any good auto driver can learn to)
Raisins |
pilot this job in two hours . .
as a confection made a big smash
some years ago in a five-cent pack-
age—now the Sun-Maid association
plans a tiny, one-penny version . . .
And here’s something to watch out
for, reported by A. Weston Smith in
Financial World: A @ “Yankfrank”
which is a frankfurter with its own
built-in mustard container—a tube
imbedded in its center, containing
mustard which you can either
spread or discard . . . Darker hose
for Milady this fall—the autumn
hosiery shades of the textile color
card association run to decidedly
darker browns than have been of-
fered for some years.
SECOND THOUGHTS
By JAVIE RICHE
How quaint our manners and our
ways,
We move far from the crowded
town
To where are quiet nights and days,
Where summer wears a floral
gown,
And then we plead for smooth-
paved roads
That bring the town to our re-
treat,
The Jacks and Jills, the Jukes and
Joads
And all who are the sub-elite.
Ambition goads us to escape
The traffic and its strident noise
And from the hills and fields to
shape
Protection for our girls and boys,
And then, removed from dirt and
din,
We set about a highway plan
To lure the city’s hazards in,
How quaint and odd the ways of
man,
The rural pastures soon are trod
By hosts at picnic, trees are
stripped
And wrecks are scattered on the
sod ?
Of fools with speed too well
equipped.
The nights grow loud with ribald
song,
The days with tragedies are grim
And we who fled the motley throng
Are victims of its sordid whim.
Far down the years a rebel band
Pursued by poverty and law
Escaped to a primeval land
Where life was rough and rude
and raw
And subsequently they or theirs
By varied trials and by test
Achieved what we, their quondam
heirs,
Assumed to be a rich bequest.
Who cared that some of them were
thieves
And some free-booters on the
loose,
That some were sold like hides and
beeves
And some had fled the hangman's
noose ?
We know full well that few were
saints
But all with courage were en-
dowed,
Worn weary of their old restraints.
They faced the seas and quit the
crowd.
The savage barred their
search,
eager
They made him friend or struck
him low;
They saw the eagle’s skyward perch
And said from there their flag
must flow.
Of Europe’s ills they were well rid
And more than glad that it was
true;
Forgetting what their forebears did
They plotted an existence now,
In time the ministers and kings,
In keeping with the age-old lore,
Designed to clip their subjects’ wings
And take some of their nested
store.
By strategem, by force, by guile,
By decent means and by deceit,
They fought it out and in a while
Our freedom here was made com-
plete.
From despotism we were weaned,
To liberty we were ordained;
The founding fathers then convened
To certify the trust attained.
Their guiding motive and desire
Was dissolution of the bond
With Europe, severance entire
As measured by Atlantic’s pond.
Old thoughts persist, old habits stick,
Old tales adhere to custom's
shelves,
THE SENTIMENTAL SIDE
By EDITH BLEZ
Yesterday I came across an article in The Atlantic Monthly which
struck me so forcibly I wish everyone might read it.
It was about small
town woman’s clubs and how much they can do to promote real democracy.
The meaning of that much publicized word has been hopelessly lost in all
the press and radio accounts, and now some rather obscure writer points
FOOTNOTES
By EMMONS BLAKE
Six years ago, and before the mil-
itary crisis, we had free run of a
nearby marine camp and rifle range.
Many Saturday mornings were spent
in the pits dug by rifle and machine
gun bullets, behind the targets.
These pits were five feet across and
about ten feet long. We would fill
sacks and boxes with the torn and
twisted bullets, bring them home
and melt them down on the kitchen
stove into weighs for diving helmets.
When the targets were in use, we
would stand in the rifle butts and
snatch up the hot empty shells as
they snapped out of the rifles, Many
times at noon the marines invited
us up to the mess hall and fed us
well. After these luncheons we would
go out into the hot sun and sit with
our backs against the shabby walls
of a bunkhouse and listen to the
marines tell each other what good
shots they were.
But all this has changed now.
The bunkhouses have been paint-
ed and changed to barracks. And
a free meal to a civilian is impos-
sible to get into the defense budget.
The dimensions of the present rifle
pits are military secrets. And the
mere thought of a civilian being
allowed on the grounds without a
handful of passes, let alone his
being allowed to get within a quar-
ter of a mile of the rifle butts is
untenable. The marines no longer
loll around after chow in comfort-
able, if messy, dungarees. Now, it
seems, they are practicing all the
time, and they are always dressed in
spotless uniforms. Of course thou-
sands more marines use the rifle
range today, than did six years ago.
Long rows of tents fill the place
where they used to play football.
And almost always one can see long
lines of men marching down the
wide macadam road that used to
be just a narrow path.
I guess that this activity is a wel-
come sight to most people and a
good sign in these times. But I know
that there will be many boys this
summer who will be sitting on their
front porches and wondering how to
spend their wealth of extra time.
And when they hear the rattle of |
machine gun fire from the nearby
mesa and the crack of rifles, the
thought will not enter their heads
to spend the morning at the range
watching the boys shoot. Because
their old playground has become a
military secret.
We found some doubting Toms to
lick
And once we had to lick ourselves,
But finally from gulf to lake
And sea to sea we stood four-
square
To play the game of give-and-take
On terms of peace and share-for-
share.
There came a time when we forgot
The truths the founding fathers
learned,
We messed with Europe's seething
pot
And got our fingers badly burned.
Through debts denied and trades
depressed
We struggled, pledging with our
tears
That nevermore we'd be distressed
By Europe's hates and greeds and
fears.
A war of empire and of wrath,
Of sacrifice and endless pain,
Is fought across high heavens’ path,
It heaves beneath the boundless
main,
It detonates in street and home,
Men hide like beasties under-
ground,
It blasts beneath the sacred dome
And terror of it knows no bound.
And do we ask that strife should
cease,
That foes from rivalry retire,
Do we extend the pipe of peace
In mood designed to shame their
ire?
out vividly one small, but sound
reason, why democracy is losing its
grip.
The author had no major issues
and she wasn’t attempting a’ politi-
cal harangue, she simply told about
one woman in a small town who
had lived there all her life but had
never known the real benefits of
democracy simply because she was
poor. For years she had wanted to
belong to the local woman’s club
but had never made an attempt to
join because she felt that she did
not have the proper clothes. She
felt that the women would not ac-
cept her as an equal because her
home was not modern and attrac-
tive, and because she wasn't as well
turned out as the average club wo-
man in her town.
After years of hopeless wishing,
she had a little money left to her.
She went to one of the women and
asked if she wouldn't propose her
name as a member of the club. She
explained that the time had finally
arrived when she felt that she could
make a proper appearance and she
wanted above all things to be a
member of the woman’s club!
She did join the club and for
many years attended every meeting.
She always sat in the background
thoroughly enjoying just being there
with the women she felt were her
superiors. She never dared to voice
an opinion and no one took any
apparent interest in her. It didn’t
seem to bother her very much that
she was neglected. It never seemed
to enter her mind that there was
anything she might do in such a
group. She was perfectly content-
ed to look on. She felt well dressed
in her new clothes and she was
quite satisfied that at last she had
succeeded in becoming a member of
the great woman’s club!
One afternoon at a meeting of the
club some sort of an activity was
being planned and there was some
discussion about washing dishes for
the affair. Very timidly the woman
raised her hand and said she
thought she could take care of the
dish washing. Never before had
there been anything she felt she
could do. Several years later she
was ill and dying and she reminded
her daughter to be sure and invite
the club to her funeral. She didn’t
want the women of the club to be
neglected!
Doesn’t it sound like fiction that
such a thing could happen! I
wouldn't be at all surprised if there
are some women in many communi-
ties who feel the same way; women
who feel that their clothes are not
good enough and that they are not
as chic and as well turned out as
the average woman's club member.
It isn’t exactly the fault of the wo-
men who belong to the club but I
do feel that it is something we should
all think about and, perhaps, as the
writer of the article in The Atlantic
pointed out, we could do our bit
toward a real democracy by begin-
ning right in our woman's clubs. Is
it too late? Is it too late to learn
from the very bottom what democ-
racy can mean? Are there women
in your community who feel that
they cannot join a town organization
because the women running it are
just a little too superior?
We reach across the ocean wide
To order all to our belief,
We implement the losing side
And so prolong the death and
grief.
THE MORAL:
What's read above was not inspired
By Charlie Lindbergh, Gerald Nye
Or Wheeler, all of them admired
By peaceful fellows such as I;
The inspiration is an ad
From Canada, and it assures
That there all joys are to be had
And liberty in full endures.
No shortage there of gasoline,
No rationing of cheese and cream,
No lease-lend taxes spoil the scene
And freedom is sublime, supreme.
And so I ask, and none explains,
A question that has had me treed:
Did we renounce old Europe’s chains
Or was it Canada we freed?
P. S. The advertisement appeared
in the New York Times.
‘0 PERFECT LOVE, {ILL HUAN
2 ——
This marriage hymn was written by an srt young woman in
’ celebration of the wedding. of her younger sister. Little did she dream _'
that it weuld be sung -at thousands of we
nuptial ceremony.
4 ~~ ~~ DOROTHY F, BLOMFIELD » a
if [p= TRANSCENDING”
: . OC perfect Love, all human thought transcending, {
: Lowly we kneel in prayer before
That theirs may be the love that knows no ending,
z- Whom Thou for evermore dost join in one.
y throne,
ngs, including a royal
"HOWARD H. ed
FUNERAL DILECYC
BEA -Gr ETT [ay
gatay ager oa
*